


Once and Again

by ract46



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, Magic!Stiles, Not Canon Compliant, Teen Derek Hale, Time Travel, a dog named Derek
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-08
Updated: 2019-12-08
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:54:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21674821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ract46/pseuds/ract46
Summary: Stiles takes a chance to save everyone from Tamara Monroe’s fanatics.  It doesn’t go to plan, but can he still save the day and have his happy ever after?Tags will be updated as the story progresses.«««««««««««««««±»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 8
Kudos: 37





	Once and Again

**Author's Note:**

> This work is unreviewed and has not been proof-read or edited by any expect myself. I may not have caught all spelling and grammatical errors.  
>   
> 

#### Once and Again - Prologue

Once he was in love. That’s not true, ‘was in love’ is wrong; he is in love. How could he not be? That’s why he finds it so hard to accept. It’s one of the reasons. It’s also because it is all so damn unfair. He never expected to have it all taken away from him. Though, maybe he should have.

The wind is bitter and stirring up the snow that blankets the ground as he trudges through the preserve, the tree branches whipping at him as he makes his way to the clearing. This is where he buried them. All of them. As the tears begin, they rapidly turn cold as they slowly trickle down his cheeks.

There is no marker. Nothing to show exactly where they are, or who they are. That just isn’t possible. It's against the law for non-humans to be buried in American soil. They must be cremated so there is nothing left but ash to ensure they cannot contaminate the world.

But Stiles knows that beneath this ground, Scott, Liam, Theo, Lydia, and Derek are at rest. He feels it, thrumming in the scar of the mating bite over his collarbone, and resonating in the pack tattoos - the triskele on his back and the black bands on his left bicep, the symbols of his mate and his alpha - and it sings in the thorny vines that twist and snake their way around the rest of his body. The vine tattoos that he knows are glowing almost translucent, hidden under the layers of clothing, with the rising moon.

He drops to one knee, the cold leeching through the fabric of his jeans as the snow compacts hard beneath him and the material dampens.

"I'm sorry," his voice cracks, barely more than a whisper, "I couldn't save him, they got him, and I couldn't even get his body to lay him here with you. Peter...” he couldn’t say everything he wanted to; the words caught in his throat as he tried. “He's not gonna be there to help me,” it was Peter that told him about the spell, Peter who had him learn it by rote – it was in Latin and he didn’t have an accurate English translation – and Peter who was gonna help him perform the ritual, “But I'm still gonna undo everything she's done. It's almost time. I gotta go, I've got one more stop to make, before I head to the house."

He manages to sneak into the cemetery without being seen. With the supernatural world being known there are extra patrols on the nights around the full moon; it’s when they capture most werewolves. And while Stiles isn’t a werewolf, he is known to associate with and aid them in evading the authorities. So, he’s a person of interest to more than just the local law enforcement.

The only sound is the crunch of the snow under his feet as he makes his way through the graveyard. He finds the plots easily enough. He used to come here around this time of year to visit his mom. Now, next to the gravestone proclaiming, ‘Claudia Stilinski, Wife and Mother’, there is one that simply state, ‘Noah Stilinski’. A little further along is ‘Melissa Delgado McCall’. Erica and Boyd are buried here too, but that was before the change in the law and no-one who knew about them was gonna say anything. He’s not sure where Mason is.

He stands before his parents, fighting back the stinging tears with no respite from the cold wind.

“I promise you dad, I’m gonna fix this. Peter taught me the spell, and my spark is stronger now, I know I can do it. I only have to go back a year; back when you, Melissa, and the pack, most of the pack, were alive. And get us to make some different decisions than we did. I totally got this. I…” he clutches his stomach, soothing at the restlessness he feels there, “I need Derek, and you, and the pack. I need all of you.”

He makes his way on foot through the drifting snow, heading back out to the preserve. Taking the path that offers the most cover in the trees, he makes his way to the cleared lot of the old Hale house. This is where he needs to perform the ritual. He will need to be quick, once he starts casting, they will know he’s here.

He clears the ground of snow; by hand, he can’t risk using his magic to do it. The moon is rising higher in the sky, and he needs to be ready before it reaches its zenith. He carefully begins drawing out the circle and marking the symbols at each of the points as Peter had shown him. Sitting in the centre of the circle there is an unearthly dulling of the sound around him; the wind barely heard and the snow not crossing the markings. He lays the athame beside him and silently calls for the sacrifice he needs.

In his quiet, meditative state, he focuses on his need to go back and change what happened; on his need to keep Derek, Scott, his dad, Melissa, Liam, all the pack need to be alive. He needs them.

A scurry of claws to his left catches his attention and he sees the large black dog approach. A long-haired German Shepherd, he thinks. A sob catches in his throat and fresh tears threaten to turn to ice on his skin; its colour and size reminds him so much of Derek’s wolf. The dog crosses the threshold into the circle, walking straight up to him. He can’t see a collar or anything to identify the dog or who it may belong to.

Holding out his left hand to the dog, he reaches toward the athame with his right. With shaky voice he softly says, “Thank you for your willing sacrifice.”

He begins reciting the words of the spell that Peter drummed into him.

“Audi verba mea  
Audi me rithimus  
Ecce enim in animo spem,  
Mitte ad me tergum et non invenio, ubi  
Velim hic tempore…”




He feels the magic stir around him. His fingers grasp the ruff of the dog’s neck and his other hand clasp around the handle of the blade. With the words of the spell falling from his lips and tears streaming down his face he readies himself to slit the dogs throat.

A single shot shatters the calm around him. He feels the piercing pain cut through him, sees his blood bloom and colour his shirt around the wound. His body falls backwards to the ground as his vision swims and darkness takes him.

There’s a nudge at this jawline, something wet brushing against his neck.

Stiles turns on his side and pulls the bed covers up and burrows into them, muttering, “Five more minutes, Derek.” It comes out more like, “Five mo mints Derk.”

“You called your dog Derek?” a vaguely familiar boys voice asks. Stiles eyes fly open and spins around to sit upright in the bed. The black dog is sitting on the beside him on the other side of the bed, eyeing the young man too, a low warning rumble emanating from its throat.

Stiles recognises the boy and knows why he recognised the voice. He’s staring at a fifteen-year-old Derek Hale. Young Derek raises his eyebrows and waits for an answer.

“Where am I?” Stiles asks, deflecting.

“In my room,” he replies, clearly still waiting for an answer.

Stiles realises that his arms and chest are bare, his tattoos and the scar of his mating bite on display. He quickly peaks under the covers and short, sharp yip escapes his lips when he notices he’s completely naked. Lowering the covers and protecting his modesty in front of the minor he asks, “Where are my clothes? And, who undressed me?”

“Mom…” the first word out of young Derek’s mouth has Stiles eyes widen, “Will have your clothes, she was washing the blood out of them. And Uncle Peter helped the Doc undress you to treat the wound.” Stiles doesn’t feel any better that it was Peter that stripped him; still it could have been worse. “So…”

“So, why don’t you go find your mom, and see if there are any clothes I can wear?” Stiles cuts off the line of questioning, he needs time to think and figure out what happened and where – when – he is before saying anything to anyone, “Instead of coming up with more questions.”

“Sure,” young Derek frowns, “I’m sure my mom has a lot of questions for you to answer anyway.” With a smirk he heads out of the room, pulling the door closed behind him.

With a sigh, Stiles slumps back against the headboard and runs a hand through his hair. The dog leans over and licks his face.

“Thanks,” Stiles grumbles at him, “I suppose Derek is as good a name for you as any, since you don’t have any collar or ID.” The dog licks him again.

With a hand resting over his stomach, he looks down at where he was shot. The wound is covered with a bandage. He peels it back a little to get a look at the wound.

“I’d leave that alone,” a woman’s voice says from the door, “You don’t want the stitches to come undone, or the wound to get infected.” Stiles swiftly pulls his hand back and lets the bandage fall back into place, turning with a guilty expression to look at the woman. He hadn’t heard her approach the room; as he thought about it he hadn’t heard young Derek – and he was going to keep thinking of him as that – walk away from the room, or heard anything from outside the room.

“I’m Talia Hale,” she introduces herself, “And according to your California driving license, which expires in twenty-fifteen, you are Mieczysław Stilinski

“ **You went through my wallet?!** ” 

“Which,” she ignores his outburst and fixes him with a gaze he knows only too well, one that his father was very good at, “Is odd given that the license would only be valid for five years and the  Mieczysław Stilinski I saw in town with his mother this afternoon, is a lot younger than you and yet you have the same date of birth.”

_Damn_ , Stiles thinks as he worries at his bottom lip, _how do I lie to an alpha werewolf?_

**Author's Note:**

> I am working on several stories at the same time (Life in Beacon Hills, Rewriting Reality [Mischief Story-2], Becoming Who We Are [Centre of Dynamic Profiling Story-1], Once and Again).  
>   
> If this is one that you like and would like more of then please leave comments.  
> If you have nothing constructive to say then don't.  
>   
> 


End file.
